A sharp ring penetrated the darkness and dragged me out of the mists of sleep quite rudely. My sleep-ridden brain tried for a moment to cope with the situation, but failed. I rolled over in my bed and wishfully thought it would stop and let me go back to my dreams. But it went on so implacably that I had to resign myself to the inevitable. With a curse, I groped clumsily for the lamp switch. The light flooded the room made my head even dizzier. It was 2:00 o'clock in the morning. What the hell was that for?

Picked up the phone, I heard my voice said heavily: " Hi?"

   "Would you come or not?" a familiar voice speaking in unfamiliar tones. Half awake, I registered it was Wendy's voice. She was definitely drunk.

  "Oh!" I tried my best to grasp the situation. " where? And What for?"

   "Red Time. I'm here waiting for you. Be quick!" she giggled. 

   " God, do you know what time is it? I got work tomorrow…"

  " Damned your work!" Wendy cut my words short in a kind of hysteria. " You got work, and I got fired. Is that what you mean?"
" Sorry, I didn't mean it. Are you OK?" I said hesitantly.

" Of course I'm fine. I am just too fine. I need not to get up early tomorrow. I need not to get my hands full all day. And I need not to butter up those idiots just because they happened to be in authorities. Why shouldn't I be fine?" The words gushed but the tone seemed somehow flat and hollow. She was not fine, not at all.

   I knew I should have come. But the idea of getting up and heading for a club alone at 2 o'clock in the morning was too much for me. She sensed my unwillingness at once. Without another word, she hung up the phone immediately.

     That's Wendy. So devilish proud and sensitive! Wendy was my ex-coworker. We used to work for the same governmental organization. In another place, at another time, Wendy and I would never get so close. We are extremely different type. But as the only peripheral employees (second-class staff, no legal status) to an institution, we shared the same boat. We were always the ones who did the job, hold the bag and got the lowest paid. The bond of the same frustration and indignation somehow drew us into a close relationship. Then one day, I decided I could not stand it any more. Soon I found another job where I get less paid but for once in my life, I am needed and appreciated. Wendy chose to stay. She still held a vague hope that someday things would get better. But that day never came. Instead, she got fired because the organization decided to downsize according to the spirit of some Red Paper. "It's great! Finally I left that damned place and I am free now!" she said over the phone. She sounded so happy and I really thought she didn't take it too seriously. After all, she is not driven by financial pressure to land a job. To be honest, I was kind of jealous of her. But now, I could tell from her voice she was not so happy.

What's the role a job plays in our life? Job is so demanding and ruthless! like a gluttonous creature, it eats out most of our energies and times. There's always a time we would think it's much better if we don't need to have a job. But suppose that day did come, would we feel happy about that? Or would we just suffer from a endless empty like the part of our body was torn apart? Another friend told me about her story of unemployment: it's the worst time I had never experienced in my whole life, much worse than get dumped by a man. It's different, you know. If you failed in love, you were just rejected by a single person. But if you failed in your career, it's like you had been rejected by the whole society.

   Despite all the complaints about my job, surprisingly, I find I am deeply attached to it. I like to walk into the office bumming with activity every morning. I like to loose myself in the piled of work behind the modular cubicles. And I also like to work with those young and intelligent persons and render assistance when assistance is needed. Though what I am doing is just some trivial and routine things, it's still great to be part of it. The greatest thing about this job is I never complain. My boss is really something. He always has a way to keep me on my shoes, so I really don't have time to complain!
Come back to the question: what the job is, A pleasant friend or a disgusting enemy? Perhaps it's just a matter of choose. To love, or to hate. It's depended on the way how you look at. No perfect job in this imperfect world. The most important thing is you can't loose your faith and confidence in it.